


Three's Company

by Neptune_Witch



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Continuation, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7860079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neptune_Witch/pseuds/Neptune_Witch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their free-fall, Will and Hannibal are adrift in the ocean for a day and a night before they're found washed up on a beach, an amazing 100 miles away from their bluff. Still clinging to one another, it was hard to separate the unconscious duo. They were taken in a treated by an old ocean fisherman and his wife, a retired ER nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After their freefall, Will and Hannibal are adrift in the ocean for a day and a night before theyre found washed up on a beach, an amazing 100 miles away from their bluff. Still clinging to one another, it was hard to separate the unconscious duo. They were taken in a treated by an old ocean fisherman and his wife, a retired ER nurse.

Hannibal and Will slept feverishly for almost four days, only rousing long enough to eat the bits of food fed to them by their saviours, Frank and Darla. On the fifth day, Hannibal woke fully, gasping and fighting against his covers to sit upright, before collapsing against the wall by his head. He felt a tightness around his abdomen and lifted his tattered shirt to find a bandage wrapped around his middle. Slowly and gingerly, he unwrapped the cloth and with a long finger, softly poked the stitches that closed his bullet wound.  
“How did I get shot..?” Biting his lip and re-wrapping his bandages, he pushed the question to the back of his mind, glancing over at the cot a few feet away. A surge of emotions hit him like a tidal wave as he fought to remember the man’s name. –arousal/hunger/desperation/adoration/longing- With a shaking hand he pushed his fingers through his hair, wracking his brain for the necessary name, the one thing that would give him an inkling of this man that evoked such a strong mixture of complicated and compelling emotions. He swung his legs off of the cot and placed them on the floor, inhaling sharply at the cool of the wood. Looking and actually studying the man beside him, he went with his emotions, willing memories and shadows to collide to give him an answer. 

Shadows danced over his fine cheekbones, and he felt more than saw a glimpse of a candlelit dinner, flames casting off a strange dancing pattern on the man, his curly hair looking like it was dancing in a breeze as he tilted his head back to, swallow a bird? The cannibal hooked his arms under his legs, folding nearly in half and resting his head on his knees as he followed this memory down the rabbit hole. The bird had been right of passage, a test, one that he had passed, one that had solidified Hannibal’s feelings for the man. Hunger/longing/adoration/addiction/need is what Hannibal felt as he heard the man breathe. After a few long breaths, he looked up, watching his chest raise and fall.

After what felt like hours of sitting in the same position, Hannibal sat up, working a knot out of his shoulder. He went to lay back down, when a soft groan escaped the unconscious man’s lips. Hannibal was at his side in a flash, ignoring his own pain. He placed his hand on his forehead, and the moment he touched his skin, a name leapt from the darkness of his blank memories to his lips.

“Oh my dear Will..” Hannibal stopped short, tasting Will’s name on his tongue. ‘Will.’ His name tasted like hunger, like longing, like being found. Hannibal looked down at Will and stroked his head, running his fingers through his dark curls. “Oh my Will.” He rested his forehead against Will’s and held close. Will’s breathing evened out and he let out a soft sigh, and he resumed his peaceful sleep.

After a few moments’ deliberation, he stepped around to the other side of Will, leaning over and moving the covers to slide into the cot with Will. In his sleep, Will rolled to his side, allowing Hannibal to move in, and after Hannibal had adjusted Will’s head so it was laying on his arm, he draped the other around his waist, savouring the warmth that made him feel like home. Nuzzling Hannibal’s arm, Will cuddled closer to the cannibal, and the cannibal curled around his lamb, neither of them remembering the events that brought them to this moment; but both of them, one on a conscious and the other on an unconscious level, knew that for whatever reason, each other’s arms is where home was. Will dreamt of a life that never happened, and Hannibal drifted off to sleep, desperately searching dark corners of a mind that was as nocturnal and as shifting as the shadows in the dark bedroom they both rested in.


	2. Three's Company - Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal meet one of their caretakers, a lovely nurse named Darla. With head trauma and memory loss hovering around the both of them, Darla suggests going into town to get a checkup and a scan; however it gets pushed off for another day once the men are able to be up for more than a few hours at a time.

When Hannibal awoke the next morning, he was still curled around Will. Through the dull and persistent ache in his middle, he pushed on it, trying to remember why he hurt.

Oh. Right. The bullet wound. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of Will’s curly hair. He inhaled again, smelling something unusual. Copper faintly touched his nostrils. ‘Blood’ his mind told him, and Hannibal picked up his head and arm, lifting the blanket to do a cursory check of Will’s wounds. The faintest drops of blood were staring to seep through the bandage, barely colouring it. There was another smell, fainter than even the coppery scent of the blood. A darker smell, like a plant that’s been sitting in water too long. He carefully picked himself off of the cot, and rolled Will onto his back, unwraping the bandage gingerly.

A red, jagged wound stared back at him, heat radiating from the puckered skin. The smell was stronger now that the bandage was off, and he got the impression that the wound looked a little angry at him; like the pout of a child who hadn’t gotten it’s way.

“My now, doesn’t that look like it hurts.” A friendly voice chirped from the doorway, and Hannibal whirled around, completely dwarfing the small woman who had walked in. He moved too quickly, and a fiery pain shot through his rib cage and down his side. He gasped and bit his lip, almost folding himself in half. The short woman helped him sit down on the opposite cot, chastising him for being up so soon.

“You could rip your stitches, in fact, I’m sure you have.” She fluttered around Hannibal, and he thought she was like a hummingbird with the quick and quiet way she moved around the room. “I’m Darla, in case you were wondering.” She dug through a bucket she had brought in with her, and pulled out a bottle of liquid and fresh bandages.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Darla.” Hannibal spoke with his custom cadence, slow and deliberate, placing emphasis on the emotion of the words. Darla smiled widely. “Oh my, I love your accent.. where are you from?”

“I’m from..” he paused, tilting his head and blinking, moving his eyes seemingly to search the floor for answers. “I’m not sure I remember right this moment. I apologize.”

“Well that’s troublesome.” Darla was taking off Hannibal’s bandages, unwinding them. “Did you move these last night?”

“Yes. I didn’t know what happened.”

“Do you know now?” The cannibal shook his head, pursing his lips. “Well then, I might have to take you at least into town to get your head checked.”

Hannibal fought against the sudden panic that shot through him. “I’m sure that is not necessary.”

“And I’m sure that it might be.” She leaned in close, touching the skin around his wound lightly; her fingers felt cool and soothing. “A little warm, but it looks like it’s healing nicely.” She stood up, pulling tube of cream out of the bucket and applied it to a gauze pad in her hand, laying it over the wound before changing out the bandages. “I’ll let that breathe a minute before wrapping you up.”

Before Hannibal could get out a thank you, she was rolling Will to his side to remove the wraparound bandaging. Like she had with Hannibal, she touched the skin around the wound lightly. After a few quiet Hmms, Hannibal broke the otherwise stagnant silence.

“I think Will’s wound is getting infected.” Hannibal stated quietly, keeping a hand pressed on his own wound.

Darla stood up, looking over her shoulder at the lean man reclining on the other cot. “That’s what I was thinking as well… His name is Will?” Hannibal nodded, and Darla resumed her work, reaching to pull a stethoscope from the bucket. She breathed on the stethoscope to warm it before placing it on various places on Will’s back, listening a few moments before moving to another spot. “Well his lungs are good. Exceptional, even. Is he a runner?” Darla gently rolled Will back, propping his head up with a pillow that had fallen to the floor.

Hannibal furrowed his brow. “I don’t remember.” He said, troubled. “Maybe I should get my head checked.” Darla chuckled, reaching to pat his leg before turning back to Will. “We’ll wait until you get up and walking, dear. Sometimes all you need is to get your blood moving in the right directions.” She busied herself with cleaning Will’s wound for a while, humming softly under her breath. “There.” She said finally, stretching as she stood up. “Oooh, I’m too old for this.” She laughed at Hannibal’s concerned look. “Oh don’t mind me. I like to complain. I feel it’s good for the soul.”

“Any fool can criticize, condemn, and complain – most fools do.” Will’s sleepy voice drifted up from the cot, and in an instant Hannibal was kneeling beside him, Will’s cold, well-worn hands wrapped up in Hannibal’s large hands, his long nimble fingers softly stroking Will’s skin. “What did you say, Will?”

“He was quoting Benjamin Franklin.” Darla finished packing up the bucket, heaving it up onto her hip with a sigh. “My husband likes to quote that at me when I get on a roll.” She turned to leave the room, and paused at the doorway. “By the way, I never got your name?” She looked at Hannibal, and he tilted his head.

“His name is Hannibal.” Will said, his voice barely above a whisper. Hearing Will say his name clicked something in his head, and Hannibal nodded, breathing deeply through his nose as a few memories fell into place. A gunshot. The smell of blood and arousal as he and Will embraced, bloody, battered, and exhausted. The soft thud of something hitting the ground behind them, and the faint sound of something approaching in the distance, something with lights dancing along them. The last thing he could push himself to remember before it started fading was the feeling of the bitter cold ocean and the taste of salt.

“Hannibal. Huh. Will and Hannibal.” Darla sounded it out in her mouth before shrugging. “Do you happen to remember your last names?” Hannibal and Will both shook their heads.

“Well, until you do, I’ll call you both Mr. and Mr. Smith.” She nodded at the ring on Will’s finger, the one he wore more for the symbolism of his previous family than for actual need. Will looked at his hand, staring at the ring as if seeing it for the first time, and Hannibal nodded in tired agreement. "I'll let you both rest for the remainder of the day. We'll try getting up and moving around tomorrow, since my husband has the day off." Darla waved a small wave, and shut the door behind her.

Will was still staring at the ring on his hand. "Are we married, Hannibal?" He was searching his thoughts, but they all screamed at him in a jumbled, jibberish mess. He found a memory and grasped onto it, following it.

"You called us. ... husbands." He was angry and irritated. There was a redhead in front of him, and he felt like he wanted to slap the smug look off of her face. She merely lifted her eyebrows and let out a small sound that neither confirmed nor denied what he was accusing her of.

"Will? Will did you hear me?" Hannibal's face was near his own, concern deepening the lines on his face.

Will yawned, shaking his head. "Sorry... had a flashback." Hannibal settled in close, being careful of the knife wound as he slid his long hands along Will's stomach. "Do we know a redhead?" Hannibal's hands paused above his navel.

"I don't know, do we?"

"I don't know either..." Will struggled to sit up. "Why are we here? Where even is here?" He started breathing heavily, suddenly realizing nothing around him was familiar. Hannibal grunted in pain when he reached over to grab Will, his long fingers stroking both of his arms.

"Will, my dear Will. Relax. We will figure this out." Hannibal continued to soothe his Lamb; Will's outward panic perfectly imitating Hannibal's internal turmoil. Neither of them knew what was going on, neither knew what had happened, and neither of them knew what they didn't know. "We are together, Will. For better or for worse, we are together, and together is how we will rebuild ourselves."

Hannibal lay the still shaking Will back down, and stroked his feverish head until he fell into a fitful sleep. After a length of time, Hannibal stood up, limping over to the window. The sun was low in the sky, and the clouds were just starting to turn colours. He stared for a long while, losing himself in trains of thoughts and fractures of memories.

As the room grew darker, the sun-warmed cannibal slipped back over to the cots Darla and her husband had graciously provided, sliding into one. The coolness of the sheets soothed Hannibal's skin, and the complete lack of intrusive city sounds lulled him towards slumber.

"I can see why Will prefers living in the country.." murmured Hannibal; with that last thought dancing around his torn mind, he drifted.

And like the nights before, and akin to so many nights in the future, the Cannibal and the Lamb slept like only the ignorant can; deep and restful, unaware of the outside world or it's turmoils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been almost a year since the last chapter; life has been busy.  
> Again, let me know how you like it, what could change, what could happen, ideas, etc.  
> Constructive criticism is encouraged.  
> Thank you~  
> Lex

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction idea, and my first written fanfiction, so my apologies on it being so short.. I'm trying to find the inspiration for a potential continuation.


End file.
